Isolated
by SilverstarsEbonyskies
Summary: AU A boy isolated from the world. A girl in the slums, living with an abusive father. What plot is unfurling beneath both of their lives? Why does insanity follow them wherever they go?
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I know I probably shouldn't do yet another story…but this kept on bouncing around in my head and refused to leave me alone until I posted it. SO whether I was planning on it or not, it's here now. Anyways, I hope you people like it! Enjoy.

Shameless Advertising: I've some other Danny Phantom fics…chances are, if you like this one, you'll like those.

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Danny Phantom…it's depressing, I know.

Summery: AU. Danny is a 15 year old boy. He has never set a foot outside the room he lives in. He is isolated from the world…but why? Sam is a 15 year old girl. She lives in the slums of the city, living in an old, worn out house with her abusive father. What do these two people have in common? What plot is unfurling beneath the surface of their lives?

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Isolated

Ch.1

The room was bathed in an inky blackness, even though the sun was still in the sky outside. Heavy curtains obscured the piercing light. In the murky darkness, a teenaged boy lay, staring at the ceiling. The boy was around 15, and had black hair and blue eyes. His skin was abnormally pale, as if the rays of the sun had never touched him.

The boy tuned his head slightly towards the door when a harsh knocking made it shudder in its frame. The door clicked and swung open, letting a dim shaft of light lay across the room. The boy squinted despite the low intensity of the light and got up to walk over to the entryway.

A hand shoved a dinner tray into his hands, shut the door, and locked it. The boy walked over to his rickety desk and plopped down on the chair to eat. This was routine. He had never left this room, at least in his memory. There was even a small bathroom connected to it. He never so much as slipped a toe past the door to his room, nor even taken a look at the outside world. It was forbidden to him. They had made that clear. The room was his life. That was how it should be and how it will stay.

Although he had no contact with the outside world, he was by no means uneducated. They had sometimes shoved a few books through the door along with his meals. It was a relief to have something to do. Learning was one of the few pleasures available to him to alleviate the boring monotony of his existence. Those books on his desks were the only thing that even remotely linked him to the outside. It was also quite possibly the only thing keeping him sane.

After finishing his meager meal, he placed the tray on the ground near the door. They would get it later. Giving a slight sigh, he resumed his position on the bed to stare at the ceiling. His eyes darted over to the curtained window, but he quickly trained them back upon his ceiling. After bout half an hour, he sighed and got up once more. The thought wouldn't leave him today. He walked across the carpeted floor to arrive in front of his window.

He had finished all of his books. He had nothing else. He had always wondered what the outside looked like. He had pictures, sure, but would they compare? What lay beyond his life? What were people really like? Why do they go outside? Why can't he? Questions like this made a chaotic clamor in his mind, demanding answers. He had always wondered, but it had gotten worse.

He stared at the curtains. They said not to. They said it would be better if he never saw. They made it clear. But what else did he have to do? And he had so many questions they wouldn't answer or give him the time to ask. He needed to know. He needed answers…

A pale hand reached tentatively towards the wall of fabric. It lay there for a second, as the mind that controlled it hesitated. It clutched the material lightly, and the boy held his breath as he eased the curtain open just enough to get a glimpse of the world he had been denied.

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A girl of 15 years lay in a crumpled heap against the brick wall of an old building. Her black hair was frazzled and her amethyst eyes were red and puffy. Her tearstained face was turned to the little sky she could see from the alleyway. Purple bruises adorned her pale flesh. Her clothes were distinctly gothic, although worn.

Another girl cautiously approached her. This one had brown hair and green eyes. She just wore some beat up jeans and a simple T-shirt. She kneeled next to the girl on the ground and placed her hand gently on her back. The purple-eyed girl showed little reaction, although a bit of the tenseness left her.

"Rough day Sam?" The green-eyed girl asked, making it sound more like a statement than anything else.

Sam laughed ruefully without mirth before replying, "Yeah."

"Come on," the green-eyed girl urged, "Let's do something. You deserve to be carefree for awhile."

"Like what Sarah? If you haven't noticed, we're pretty much broke."

Sarah smiled happily and pulled out a few crumpled bills out of her pocket.

"I found these earlier today."

"But you shouldn't be wasting you money on me, trying to cheer me up!" Sam protested.

"You're my friend, cheering you up is not a waste of money." She grinned, "Besides, we haven't watched a movie in a long time anyway."

"You're not going to give up until I agree, aren't you?"

Sarah just kept smiling. Sam sighed and voiced her acceptance, "Alright, alright…the old theater, right?"

Sarah nodded and helped Sam get back on her feet. Sam swiped her sleeve across her face and raked her fingers through her hair before following her friend down the alleyways and streets to the old theater.

When they reached a small apartment complex, Sam stopped walking, lost in thought. Sarah, realizing her companion had ceased to follow, turned back to walk toward her.

"Sam?" She asked questioningly.

"I've always wondered who lives there." Sam stated softly back in answer. Sarah followed her gaze.

"The window, huh?"

"Yeah, I've never seen those curtains open and I've lived here all my life."

It was a small window, the middle one out of the nine. The curtains were gray, almost perfectly blending in with the walls. Sam thought she saw them shift slightly, but she shook her head and told herself she was delusional. It could be a storage room for all she knew.

"Well," Sarah said, breaking the silence, "Let's go."

Sam turned to leave, but her head swung back to the window as if of its own accord. A pair of startling blue eyes peered from in between the pieces of fabric. Surrounded by the palest skin she'd ever seen. The eyes widened and disappeared, and the gap closed once more. Sam gasped, her jaw would have hit the floor if it could.

"Sam! Come on!"

She shook herself out of her surprised stupor and quickly followed, trying to puzzle through her thoughts.

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Hurray! I think that's the longest first chapter I've ever done! (dances) I'm so happy! Anyways, please review. I want to know if people are actually interested with this fic of mine.

Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Ack! I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update! I've just been absolutely swamped with school stuff, and I have a pretty busy schedule that doesn't have much room to write stories in it…anyways, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Despite the fact that I love this show and am writing stories for it, I do not own it. While that is a very sad fact for me, I am sure that most of the fan population is grateful.

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Isolation

Ch. 2

The boy stood in front of the window, heart pounding wildly within his chest. The curtains had closed once more and the darkness had returned to blanket his room with the comforting familiarity he had always lived with. It was amazing that just one look at something new or different can upset your view of reality in tremendous leaps and bounds and cause so many emotions to bubble up within you, especially when your view of life has been so limited so drastically for so long. The feeling that there is more to life than what you've been living can come as a major shock to one who has never seriously contemplated it. This is why the boy stood there, hardly daring to breathe. The darkness that had become his domain almost seemed to suffocate him then, and the walls almost seemed to close in on him like the room wasn't large enough to hold him.

And perhaps it wasn't.

The boy realized in that shifting of perspective that he had outgrown that room, the darkness, and its enclosure from the reality that others seemed to live in. In fact, looking back, he had outgrown it long ago. He just never realized it. This realization brought a whole slew of ideas and concepts that he had never occurred to him or he'd never bothered to consider. It was exhilarating, the rush of possibilities.

However, in spite of the thrill, the sheer entrancing newness of it all; he was afraid. It was as if the floor he had been standing on for so long just vanished from under his feet. It left him falling into the unknown, breathless, filled with anticipation, and fearful. All he could do was close his eyes and hope he kept his sanity.

But there was something else occurring within his mind, almost hidden underneath the chaos of his thoughts and growing world-views.

It had never really occurred to him that other people existed. Other people with emotions and thoughts just like his. Oh, he had known that there were others out there, but the fact that they had their own lives and they did their own things had never really hit home until now. Until he actually had a glimpse of the lives other people led.

So he stood, he hand resting on the glass through the fabric, feeling the cooled night air through the barrier. His heart started to slow it rapid beating, and his breathing resumed its normal activity, the strung up tenseness of his being flooded from him. As if all of his energy had been depleted in those few, quickened heartbeats of time, he walked shakily over to his bed and nearly collapsed upon it. Once again, he resumed his position of a few minuets before, head resting on the pillow and his eyes staring in a vacant daze up at the ceiling.

This time though, he had a complete set of new things to consume his thoughts.

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The fact that she had actually seen someone in that room didn't trulyhit her until she stepped outside after the movie. When it did, it practically ran her over. While her friend chattered merrily on about the film, she stared blankly out into space, her mind coming to an abrupt halt at the unexpected information. Ever since she could remember, she had lived in this forgotten dump. For almost as long, she had passed that building to get to the main street. For years, she had idly wondered about that room when her mind had the rare opportunity to wander. It was almost unreal that she actually had found a clue to her ponderings.

Now that she did, she was determined to have the mystery completely uncovered. Her long dormant curiosity had awoken. After all, it wasn't like there was anything better to do.

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The light in the room was stark, unnatural. It glared off of the white tiles, making the white floor gleam. The walls were a light shade of beige. The ceiling couldn't be seen through the lights hung up at five foot intervals. Scattered throughout the large room, were various pieces of electronic equipment, along with shelves holding vials with different liquids of many colors, labeled with white stickers printed on with neat, black type.

Seated around a small round table in the very center were four very different characters. One was a nondescript man, one who would have no trouble blending in with a crowd, with brown hair and eyes. The one next to him was the opposite, a large frame and figure covered in high-tech armor. Next to him was a thin man in a lab coat with beady black eyes. The last was teenager, surprisingly. He was African-American, with glasses and a red beret.

"How much longer?" The thin man demanded.

"I'm almost all the way through the system, there's just one barrier that I need to get across." The young boy answered.

"I've gathered as much as I think it's possible to get." The brown-haired man reported.

"I've been ready." The hulking man replied.

"Good, once all the pieces have fallen into place, we can make our move. We've been waiting for a long time." He smiled thinly, "Ever since the creation of Phantom."

The teenager fidgeted uncomfortably under the piercing gaze of their leader, he knew that if he caused so much as one mishap, much worse would happen than what had transpired before. Everything was up to him now. He hoped he worked well under pressure.

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Alright! Here's the next one! I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope all of you are coming up with your own theories…Which I'd love to hear by the way…speculations are always interesting.

Please, please review! I love criticism and praise! They help a lot!


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, wow. I'm back from the dead peoples! I had a bit of an overload and my brain pretty much fried because of all the schoolwork…blech…

Anyways, I'm back now and I hope to update a bit more regularly…hopefully…

Shameless Advertising: I would love it if you people read my other stories… (Hint, hint)

Disclaimer: Do you honestly believe that a fourteen year old girl really owns Danny Phantom? I'm not insanely rich, so I think not.

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Isolated

Ch.3

Walls were pressing in on all sides. The ceiling and floor seemed to try their hardest to meet. There was no air to breathe, and no space to exist in. There was pressure everywhere and the darkness choked him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe…

The dark haired boy gasped, his chest heaving as he shot up out of bed. His eyes roamed wildly about the room, becoming more panicked with each second that passed. He scooted backwards until he hit the wall. He suppressed a scream at the feeling of the wall behind his back.

His fear retreated to the back of his mind when the routine knock sounded and his breakfast was placed onto the floor. But it was still there, lurking and waiting for the right opportunity. There was something profoundly wrong about this, this imprisonment. He couldn't exactly place his finger on it, but it was as if there was something he had to do.

He had to get out of here somehow, but there didn't seem to be a way. He had no real, practical knowledge about the outside world, assuming he could even escape in the first place. There was just no way. He was condemned to stay in this place, this place were he shouldn't be. The fear started to creep up again at these thoughts. It was like it sensed his intent…

The cheap plastic fork stopped in midair by the hand that held it, a piece of indistinguishable food hanging off its end. The light faded, the darkness appeared. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe…the fork dropped out of his hand and fell silently to the floor. The plate of uneaten food slid off his lap to stain the carpet. The boy sank into unconsciousness.

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The teenaged boy with the red beret sat at a giant supercomputer, typing furiously. It was a miracle that the keys survived the onslaught. The one with beady eyes hovered over his shoulder staring intently at the screen although he could make no sense of the gibberish. The boy squinted in concentration. He tried his utmost hardest to ignore the looming and uncomfortable presence of his superior lingering threateningly over him. His forehead started to glimmer with perspiration at the nerve-wracking nervousness that consumed him. After a few intense minutes, the boy sighed wearily and practically collapsed onto the back of the chair.

"Well?" The man asked impatiently.

The boy answered, the barest hint of a smile set upon his face. "It's working."

The man smiled narrowly.

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Sam lay on her back on the dingy carpet, which was once cream but turned brown with the filth of decades. A small, threadbare scrap of a blanket managed to cover most of her frame. Her eyes stared unseeingly upwards. Her mind turned and thoughts rolled over in her mind. She looked out of the small window and grimaced. The sun was rising. She hadn't been able to get any sleep the night before, no matter how hard she tried. The floor wasn't so comfortable and the blanket wasn't much for fending off the cold of the night. Not to mention the fact that the person in that one room intrigued her to no end.

She still tried to suppress her thoughts with the simple logic that it really might be a storage room and she was over-reacting and blowing things out of proportion. Her curious side would have none of it. It insisted that she investigate, and find out once and for all what the heck was really behind the curtain. Hey, it wasn't like there was anything better to do.

So, she stiffly got up off the floor and fixed her rumpled clothes, and stepped outside, extremely careful so as to not wake up anyone.

Of course, being careful doesn't always save you.

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"This isn't good." One short, stocky man spoke grimly, "There is interference from outside, and I can't stop it."

The other figure's lips thinned in displeasure. "Try harder. We can not lose."

"But-."

I don't care how. Just do it."

He walked away imperiously and the other man sighed heavily. This would be difficult, but there would be unpleasant consequences for failure…

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_Drip._

_ Drop._

_Drip._

_ Drop._

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

_**Red. The sky is red. Everything is red. So is blood. But not mine. **_

_Red. The color of my blood as it flows from my veins. The sky is red. Blood is everywhere._

_**Death. Is this dying? I'll find out. I'll find out soon.**_

_Death. Will this be the day? The day I finally die? I'll find out soon._

_**The darkness…will it never leave?**_

_The darkness never leaves._

_Drip._

_ Drop._

_Drip._

_ Drop._

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

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The nondescript man fidgeted under the superior's questioning gaze.

"Are… are you sure we should go through with this?"

"Now is not the time for an attack of the conscious."

"I know, but-."

"We have been planning this for so long, and it is moving perfectly. There is no reason to fear and if you don't remove your infernal conscious and keep on pestering me with nonsensical ramblings than I will do so myself."

"Y-yes sir."

"I have worked too hard for this to come to pieces now." He said under his breath.

"What was that sir?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

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Whew! Yay, another finished!

Give a round of applause to my new beta for this story, Silent Faerie 64!

I hope you all liked it! I'm starting to develop the plot now…finally, after a couple set-up chapters. So please review and tell me how you liked it! I really want to hear your comments/suggestions/etc. I want to know how to improve this and I can't do that without some input. Thanks so much!


	4. Chapter 4

Yes! I have finally dredged up the time to type up the next chapter! Anyways, for those with questions from the last chapter, hopefully some of them will be answered in this one.

Thank you reviewers! You people give me so much more inspiration!

Shameless Advertising: Here I am again, begging you to read my other DP fanfiction stories.

Disclaimer: I am neither in a coma or insane. Thus, it logically follows that I do not own Danny Phantom.

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Isolated

Ch. 4

The African-American boy fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to stay to monitor the subject for any signs of a setback or hitch. The plan could not get ruined at this stage; it would take an innumerable amount of time to set it up for another try. Which in plain English meant that this was the only chance, and if something went wrong on his watch, then the world would most likely be absent of yet another human's presence. So far though, he saw no reason for this to occur. The plan was flawless, and all of the accumulated research confirmed the fact that it was irreversible once initiated.

But hey, his boss was a little on the paranoid side. It probably came from experience. There could always be one unaccounted for variable that could spin this thing out of control.

So, all that the red-hatted teenager was doing was sitting in the chair and staring at the computer. It was a bit unnerving to see that figure writhing on the floor. It took awhile for the boy to remind himself that it wasn't really human, and things that aren't human don't feel enough to waste your sympathetic emotions on.

Right?

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A short, stocky man grumbled to himself, although it was more of an attempt to throw off the sense of impending doom than an expression of anger or irritability.

You see, the problem was that there was nothing he could do. He could perceive the interference, and even track it down to its base to a certain extent. The hard part was actually affecting it. It was elusive, in an odd way, and it wouldn't budge for anything. Sometimes the barriers he tried to place to block the interference only seemed to strengthen it.

This was not good. He had been doing his job for fifteen years, and all of that work was about to fall apart in the span of a few hours. His superior will not be pleased. There was only one thing to do.

He had to get away.

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Sam lay broken upon the gravel outside of the house. She looked blankly into the sky, wondering vaguely why it seemed to be tinted red, even though the sun had finished rising. The red seemed to be swirling…

She blinked, and the red disappeared from her sight. She was puzzled, still in that detached kind of way. Sam lifted a throbbing hand up to one of the tears that escaped her eyes and with trembling effort; she raised it up to see. There was blood in her tear. Apparently, some drops of blood splashed in her eyes from her wounds when she was thrown to the ground.

She was grateful that her mind decided to be distant this time. The pain wasn't as noticeable this way. It meant that her injuries were worse than normal though. She knew that at least one of her bones had cracked. It would take a long time to heal.

The gravel was uncomfortable, but she didn't seem to have the energy required to move. A few minutes later and with a heaving effort, she forced herself into a sitting position. Sam gasped and clutched at her rib cage, almost sending her back to the ground because of the weakness of the other arm supporting her.

Dread shot through her mind at the distant sound of footsteps, and with a colossal amount of sheer will, she heaved her self up to her feet and haltingly stumbled into a dark alley, just barely avoiding plunging back to the call of gravity.

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The dark haired boy tried to scream, but no sound escaped from the confines of his throat. He clawed at the carpet, tearing chunks out and nearly tearing his fingernails out of the flesh of his fingers when he encountered the rough wood underneath.

The door to his room opened, although the boy couldn't notice, as he was locked in his pain. His eyes shot open unseeingly, and with the chink of light that came through the crack in the door, the short and stocky man that had just opened it could see the glaring neon green they had become.

"Kid, you're on your own now. I'm on the chopping block as it is already."

The man turned around, and without closing the door, he ran as fast as he could away from the eerie spectacle.

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A man walked through a crowd in the mall, sifting through his troubled thoughts. He was fairly normal in appearance, brown hair and brown eyes. His "talk" with the boss had not quelled any of his hesitancy, nor had it banished the moral quandary he seemed to be stuck in. Although the creature was not _technically _human, it seemed like it had the capability to act normal if given a chance. Not to mention that the writhing on the floor clearly displayed the pain that the creature was going through. If only he wasn't micro-chipped…if he so much as stepped into the same room it was in, hit men would be on him within the minute.

There was simply no way he could help.

According to this logic, his conscience should have stopped bothering him.

Too bad a conscience just doesn't work that way.

He cursed foully under his breath, causing a mother to glare at him while tugging her young children away.

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Well, I hope all of you like it! Some things are starting to be set up so that the real action can take place. I hope the next chapter will be the last of the preliminary ones…although I might have to use another one for that purpose as well.

Please tell me what you thought! Any and all suggestions are welcomed as well as critics. I would really like to know how to improve my story!

Thanks so much!


	5. Chapter 5

OMG. I've been gone for such a long time...I'm so sorry it took me this long to update...Hopefully you all remember what this story is about.

Disclaimer: I own not the wonderous joys of Danny Phantom.

Shameless Advertising: If you like this story, you would probably like my other DP stories.

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Isolated

Ch. 5

She felt pain. Sam didn't remember it hurting this much…The shock of her injuries had worn away, and all of her nerves seemed to be on fire. Sharp pangs radiated from her rib cage and her arm, and she felt the stings of the scratches and the dull aches of the bruises that were scattered all over her worn body.

At first, that was all she could feel…the pain. But slowly, the world around her began to fade in. The cool concrete felt good against her skin, although the loose grit and dirt made her open injuries sting all the more. She sensed the slight breeze brush lightly against her face, and small strands of her hair danced with the gentle eddy. The familiar smell of garbage, decay, and the street assaulted her nose. Sam could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. It was slightly disconcerting, although not unusual.

Finally, she gained control of her eyelids. With effort, she peeled them open and blinked to clear her vision. It was evidently still daytime, a little before or after noon if the sun was any indication. Sam was conveniently placed right against a building, which shielded her eyes from the bright sun. Her eyes widened in obvious surprise when she saw which building it was.

It was the building with the window, the one where the curtains never opened…except once. How did she get there? She had no clue. It was impossible that she could have gotten there on her own; and all she remembered was passing out before waking up were she was now, in front of the "mysterious" building.

With her one good arm, she propped herself up into a sitting position. Her ribs protested…loudly. It took all of her self-restraint to not fall back down. She didn't think she'd be able to get back up if she did. Sam made a few pathetic attempts to get up on her feet; but they failed spectacularly. Her eyes roamed the ground beside her, searching for something to use as a crutch. She didn't find such an object. However, she did find something else.

She saw the door, which was wide open.

Sam desperately wanted to lie back down and rest, but she also desperately wanted to go inside. She felt an irresistible pull to the building, or to be more specific, to the room behind the window. With a small cry, her hands left their positions as props and they rushed upwards to hold her head. She leaned heavily upon the wall beside her.

"Stop it!" She protested weakly, "Stop screaming…"

Voiceless cries tore through her head in desperation, seeking help…her help. She could feel them, the pleas for help, and she could not refuse them. Using some of the last dregs of her strength, she haltingly heaved herself up on her feet, using the wall to help balance. Sam walked toward the door. Every step was draining, and she stumbled more than once, but she finally cam to the entrance. With those screams still raging on inside her mind, she entered though the doorway.

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Across the street and hidden in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, the brown-haired man stood, quietly watching Sam. He smiled grimly when he saw force her weary body to move through the entrance. His wretched conscience had abated, but the man's eyes still held a type of uneasiness. It was worry, for both himself and the two teenagers whose fates had always been held in the hands of others. He himself had risked much by coming this close to the building. He couldn't take the risk of staying too much longer.

He knew he had done the right thing by taking the battered girl to the place where the Phantom was held…he knew the poor girl would never have gotten there by her own strength. She would have either killed herself, or she would have gone insane trying to answer the creation's cries for help.

The man silently sighed; he just wished he could have done more. Sadly though, if he did anything else, he would likely be found out and killed. His boss had no tolerance for disobeying. He shook his head and turned around. He walked down the alley, resisting the urge to look back. There was nothing more he could do.

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Once inside the building, Sam leaned against the wall and slid down it, coming to rest on the floor. She simply didn't have the energy to keep going. The only parts of her body that she was able to move were her eyes, which explored freely, taking in all that could be seen of the first floor. It was a very shabby hallway with three doors, two on the left and one on the right. The dull paint was faded and chipping and the gray wallpaper was peeling off of the walls. From what she could see and feel of the floor, it was some type of cheap, laminated tile, dirty and scuffed up badly.

But then she noticed the stairs.

She whimpered. She would have to go up those stairs. She didn't think she could. But the screams still wailed in her head…the panicked, pained screaming…Sam knew without a doubt that she could not get back up onto her feet. That was out of the question. Then there was only one option left.

Sam inched closer to the stairs, practically crawling on her stomach. She gasped, and watched numbly as blood started to flow from a reopened injury caused by her unusual movement. The screaming filled her mind, compelling her to keep going, and so she did. She kept on crawling, eyes welling up with tears and her blood leaving small, red streaks on the floor as she moved by. Her breath became labored as she toiled, finally reaching the stairs and going up them at an agonizingly slow rate. When she at last made some progress, being in the middle of the staircase, she slipped. This brought her almost back to the very beginning again. She set her head upon the step above her and cried, torn between her physical inability and the voiceless screams.

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So, did you all like it? Did you not? Suggestions? Etc? Please review and tell me!

Thanks so much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello people! I know I've already updated this one recently, but I had a bit of inspiration for it lately. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I have never owned the wonderful joys of Danny Phantom. Somehow, I live anyways.

Shameless Advertising: I have numerous other DP fics...if you haven't read them yet...

Isolated

Ch. 6

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At first, she didn't notice. She was too wrapped up in the whirlwind of pain and screaming. But someone seemed to have taken pity on her and her plight, as she was now being carried up the torturous stairs. The steps that had mocked her before were a problem no longer. Puffy, violet eyes met the warm, albeit sorrowful turquoise gaze of a red-haired young woman who was somehow managing to carry all of Sam's dead weight all the way up to the next floor. Once on the second floor, the woman walked over to the middle door of the three and opened it carefully, shifting Sam so that she wouldn't drop her.

Beyond the door was a dingy combination living room and kitchen. There was a man with blond hair unconscious on the floor in the middle of the room with broken beer bottles scattered everywhere around him. To the right of him, there was another door. That was where the red-haired woman set her down, right in front of that door.

"I can't go any farther." Sam heard her speak softly in her ear, "You have to go through the door on your own. I know you can do it. Someone needs you."

And then the mysterious woman disappeared from her sight, the faint sounds of shoes tapping the ground floating through the air as she walked away. Sam stared at the cracked, yellow ceiling with her back to the floor. Slowly, she turned her head towards the nearby door, which was slightly ajar. She could only she the darkness through it, but she could hear the sound of ragged breathing, although just barely. She could still feel the silent panic in her head and the desperate pull in her mind. Sam was almost overloaded by the amount of stress she had been through in the past few hours… She could see the blackness encroaching upon her the edges of her vision. She weakly placed a hand against the battered wood and pushed against it.

Dazedly she thought, 'I'm finally going to see what's behind the curtain…'

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The boy sat in front of the computer, like he had been doing for too long…at least in his mind. He was watching the writhing figure on the floor. Not only was it boring…but it was almost too painful to watch. He just wanted to shut down the screen so he wouldn't have to look at the thing suffer any more. He just wanted this whole thing to be over with.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen.

Something else appeared on the screen. A black-haired violet eyed teenaged girl. To be more specific, Sam Manson…the one person out of the whole population of the world that could screw this thing up. The one girl that shouldn't be there. The other half of the equation.

This was worse than bad…it was catastrophic.

For the whole of five seconds, he was frozen, too horrified to move. After those five seconds, he dashed out of that lab like his life depended on it. Because it did. He rushed out of the door and up three flights of stairs. It was a good thing that the lab was located underneath the building…He nearly broke the door off its hinges in his haste to go through the doorway. He was disgusted to see the blond haired guy on the floor.

"Well, I guess the alcohol didn't agree with you, did it Dash?"

With distain, he made sure to step on him as he crossed the room to reach the other door. Dash had made his life miserable ever since they first laid eyes on each other. He couldn't see anything past the doorway, even though the door was wide open. The dark was thick and oppressive. He ran through the doorway.

"STOP!" He shouted at Sam.

But he was too late.

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Sam could only just barely see the outline of the boy as he struggled with his pain. When his eyes opened to reveal the glowing neon green orbs, she didn't even bat an eyelid. She was hurting and tired, and so was he. She painstakingly started to crawl towards the boy where he lay on the floor all the way on the other side of the room. She ignored the little voices of rationality, the ones that told her she was insane, that she shouldn't be doing this…and that none of this should be happening anyway. She paid attention to none of it. She just paid attention to him. Because he needed her, somehow.

She also ignored the call of "STOP!" Sam didn't even turn her head. She was so close…She reached out a hand, grasping the pale wrist of the teenaged boy. The writhing stopped, and a calm sigh came past his lips.

And they both fell to oblivion as they fell through the floor.

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"Did you think that was funny, Tucker?"

With dread, the boy turned around to face the now conscious Dash.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He protested, almost stuttering.

"Don't pretend that you weren't the one that knock me out with my beer bottles." Dash's voice was deadly.

"B-but, I really didn't!"

Tucker took a step back as the blond behemoth took a step forward. Dash punched him in the face, slamming the poor, scrawny Tucker backwards into the wall. His beret fell off, and it was stepped on by Dash. His brawny arm latched onto Tucker's neck and squeezed, cutting off the flow of air to his lungs.

"You're going to pay, Foley."

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The beady eyed man strutted up to the high backed chair in front of the supercomputer. He actually looked…happy, for once in his life. That soon changed when he spun the chair around to face him. The chair was empty, without Tucker in it. With alarm, the man looked up at the screen only to find that Phantom was no longer there.

Now he was infuriated.

This boded well for no one. Especially Tucker.

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You know the drill! Good, bad, whatever? Comments, crits, theories, anything?


	7. Chapter 7

The next chapter! I hope all of you like it!

Shameless Advertising:...we've been through this multiple times and I don't feel like typing it out. >.

Diclaimer: Same as above.

Isolated

Ch.7

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He couldn't move, even though he had regained consciousness. He couldn't so much as open his eyes, or wince as flairs of pain traveled up and down his aching body. Every part of him ached, a dull throb that consumed his nerves, leaving him incapable of feeling anything else but those burning flairs that accompanied it. But as bad as the pain was, it was infinitely better than what had racked through his body before.

Before, there was a pain so intense that it started to drive away his sanity. The pure agony that had inflicted him from within caused the carpet to feel like needles that dug deep into his skin, and the air to feel like a vice that was crushing him. He couldn't even scream, his throat had contracted, leaving him to fight for every breath he took. He had tried to cry for help, but he was abandoned, trapped in his anguish and screaming in his head.

But there was someone else; he could feel it, suffering with him.

He didn't question, he didn't have the strength. He just hung onto the feeling, and mentally pleaded at the person for help. He begged, eventually lapsing into screams, unable to form words anymore. He could sense the person getting near; sense the person's desire to help him.

Then the agony washed away, powerless in the face of the cooling, calming flood as he felt the person reach him. Soothing oxygen reached his lungs; and with a sigh, he relaxed, letting himself fall into healing sleep.

Now, only the remnants of the searing pain had remained, weakened into the dull ache that was already fading away. As the ache waned, awareness of the world around him started to fade in. He could feel the cold, rough floor below him, and the smell of chemicals invaded his nose. Finally, he was able to peel his eyelids open, gasping as the light created stabbing pains in his eyes. It would be very dark to the normal person, but it was much lighter than he was used to. He blinked the stars away from his vision and looked around, lifting his head up slightly.

He was in a small storage closet, with shelves filled with bottles holding various substances that he couldn't identify. Some of them emitted a soft glow, which was the source of his discomfort. And then he saw her. The girl he saw from the window…she lay on her side, facing towards him with her fingers just barely touching his wrist. Blood from her numerous injuries were crusted upon her clothes and skin. She was unconscious.

'_So she was the one who saved me…'_

If he concentrated, he could feel a small bit of her presence in his mind. He leaned closer, bracing himself with his elbow and examining her through his eyes and his mind. He knew her injuries were serious, and that she needed help. He could feel her tiredness…she was deep in a healing sleep. He tentatively reached out to place a hand gently on her hair. He could feel her slipping.

With every second that passed by, the chance that she would never wake up grew even greater.

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Tucker's eyes were wide, and he grasped the hand around his neck, trying in vain to pry it off. His now bruised esophagus convulsed, fighting to bring air into his lungs. It failed. Black spots appeared in his sight, the lack of air playing tricks with his mind. The very second before he was about to pass out, Dash let go of him. Tucker crumbled to the floor, gasping and dry heaving. He weakly got up to his hands and knees, shaking because of his diminished strength. Dash's foot collided with his stomach, sending him back to the floor, winded once more.

"You're going to regret ever-." Dash was cut off by an angered roar of the beady-eyed boss himself.

"YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!"

It was amazing that the frail looking man could send the hulking Dash cowering in the corner with just the sound of his voice.

"I told you to keep an eye on things and make sure that nothing could get screwed up. I thought that was a simple task, one that you could easily handle with no hassle at all. In my naivety, I thought that you would be one of the few that I could trust to do something right for once."

The man was nearly growling. A muscle twitched in his forehead.

"So imagine my surprise when I find that my plan has been ripped apart by the seams, that it has fallen to _pieces_, and that it was because of your IMCOMPETANCE!"

Tucker didn't even look at him throughout the whole tirade, and apparently, that infuriated the boss even more. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he spoke again.

"Mr. Baxter? I need you to take this pathetic idiot into the holding cell. I have some experiments that I wish to use him for."

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Tucker paralyzed with fear and Dash, who was smirking evilly at the petrified boy.

"I wanted to wail on you, but I'm sure that whatever he has in mind is much, much worse…"

He gave him one last kick in the stomach before picking him up. Dash made sure to whack Tucker's head against the doorway as he went out.

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The brown-haired man wandered along the trails in the park, lost in his thoughts. He rubbed his eye, grumbling to himself under his breath.

"These stupid contacts are such a pain."

He sat on a nearby park bench, opening his eyes wider to get the infernal things out, revealing beautiful blue irises. He rolled the brown lenses in his hand and sighed. It had been only a little less than half an hour, and yet he still couldn't get his mind on anything else but Phantom and that girl.

"I have the terrible feeling that I'm going to end up bumping into them again."

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So there it is! Good, bad, whatever? Reviews keep me motivated!


	8. Chapter 8

Dang. Two updates in a row for this one. Well, I've kinda decided that Fits of Madness and Isolated are going to be my first priority at the moment. Consider the others on a temporary hiatus. I might get around to updating them every once in awhile, but that's pretty much it until these are over.

Shameless Advertising: I guess this only applies to Fits of Madness now, cause that's the only other one I'm going to update for awhile...

Disclaimer: I am so sick of writing these. I don't own the show. Blech.

Isolated

Ch. 8

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Tucker groaned, wishing his head wasn't so sore. He had woken up in some type of cage with barely enough room to hold him. He couldn't even stand up or lay down; he was stuck in the awkward sitting position that Dash put him in when he shoved him in there. Tucker sighed and set his forehead against the cool metal of the cage. It helped to soothe his headache.

He tried to forget where he was, what he was in for. Sadly though, it wasn't working all that well. The reminders of where he was were everywhere. The cage, the harsh lighting, the white, those horrid smells of chemicals, and that stark, unnatural feel that just oppressively covered the place. It was impossible to escape, even in his own mind.

He didn't know the beady-eyed boss was there until he felt the needle jam painfully into his arm. He hissed as it was jerked roughly out again, a small trickle of blood coming out from the opening. It was a large needle. The sound that came out of the boss's mouth could almost be described as a cackle, but that wouldn't really do it justice.

"What did you-?" Tucker began to shout, his face pressing up against the bars.

But before he could get the last word out, his eyes rolled around to the back of his head. He started to thrash wildly, almost managing to tip the heavy cage over. The boss sat in a chair nearby, holding a small pad of paper and a pen. And enjoying the show, of course. He lived off of vengeance. A cruel smile made its home on his thin lips.

Poor Tucker was going to be driven insane.

By any means necessary.

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He gazed at the girl beside him, wishing he knew of a way to help. There was a word lingering in the back of his mind, something that he needed to know. He screwed his blue eyes shut and tried to concentrate, hoping that he could find the elusive word somehow.

'What is it…I-I think it starts with an h…hostel? No, that's not right…'

He could feel her getting further and further away. He didn't want her to die. He was getting frustrated, it would be his fault if she died...all because he couldn't remember some stupid word. He put his head in his hands and stared at the floor. Nothing was coming to him, absolutely nothing. He glanced at the girl again. He glared at the floor. He could almost feel the word like a tangible thing in his mind, almost like the odd connection he had with that girl…He reached desperately for the word, and yet it still evaded his grasp. His eyes widened as he finally stumbled across what he was looking for. Instead of him having to catch it, it came to him.

"Hospital!" He whispered, "That's the word!"

In his mind, he could see a building with a sign saying the word hospital in the front; but it was vague, and slightly fuzzy. It faded away the longer he looked at it, until it dissolved into meaningless swirls of color that only served to made him dizzy. He shook the image out of his mind before standing up and resting his hand on the doorknob. Without thinking, he opened the door.

Seconds later, he crashed down to the floor again, clamping his hands over his eyes and trying his hardest not to scream. In his haste, he overlooked the chinks of light that showed themselves around the edges of the door. Beyond the door, bright, glaring lights shined in all their glory, blinding him with their damaging intensity. He slammed the door shut with his foot and lay limp on the floor, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. When the pain died down, he let his hands fall to his side. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

To see nothing.

He was blind.

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The boss rummaged around in his lab coat pocket, never taking his eyes off of the writhing boy in the cage. The boy had actually managed to tip it over. The beady-eyed man's hand enclosed upon a small, flat piece of metal. He took it out. It fit easily into the palm of his hand, and it had four, small buttons on it. He pressed the red one once. His smile widened.

"That fool should have known better. No one double crosses me. No one."

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Miles away, in the beautiful park among the groves of trees and pretty flowers, one man collapsed onto the grass. The brown-haired man gasped and closed his blue eyes, which had glazed over. He clutched his chest, digging his nails through his shirt and into his skin.

"No," He pleaded to the air, "Not this, not now..."

He gasped again. He coughed, hacking up an obsidian slime that killed the blades of grass as it fell on them.

His eyes opened again, but they were black.

A laugh erupted out of him, a harrowing, maniacal laugh. It was a laugh that scared people. He knew this, and he loved it. He loved fear.

A small child whimpered a few feet away, frightened beyond any sort of coherency.

He also loved death.

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In the house of an average family, a mother stood and stared, transfixed in horror, at the television screen.

"This is 4 O' Clock news, and I'm Harriet Chin with breaking news. Just minutes ago, a child was found dead, torn to pieces, in the park. She was a six year old girl with blond hair, green eyes, and an S shaped birthmark on her right arm. If anyone knows who this child is, please report the information to the police immediately. Everyone, please stay inside your house with windows closed and doors locked, the killer is still on the loose."

Tears fell down the woman's face and she dropped down to her knees.

"My daughter, my baby…"

The sorrow was heartbreaking. But this was only the first of many.

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M'kay! How did you like it?

Reviews motivate me.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello all of you wonderful readers and reviewers that I love! I've got another chapter for all of you. I hope you like it. Enjoy.

Shameless Advertising: Come one, this should be self-explanitory by now. . 

Disclaimer: I do not own DP. I should get over it. . 

Isolated

Ch. 9

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The sky had turned gray. Thick clouds blanketed the sky, creating an artificial night. An hour ago, children were playing in their front yard, but no one was outside anymore. The houses looked foreboding, with their shutters closed and lights turned off. It was almost like the neighborhood had been abandoned. And yet, that was not the case. Mothers and their sons and daughters huddled, terrified, where they thought they might be safest, inside their houses. The fathers stood next to their respective wives and children, all holding some sort of makeshift weapon in their hands. Despite never having fought before, they wanted to protect their family. From inside their houses, they waited, hoping against hope that the killer would never find the little dead-end street they happened to live on.

Then, a crushing silence. No one dared to breathe. An oppressive feeling, a sudden draining of happiness. It was as if the sun had ceased to exist for the briefest of moments. The children shivered, tears leaking out of their eyes. But even through their fear, they all knew to stay silent, even the infants. Not a whimper escaped past their lips.

A noise, almost unheard. The faint, shuffling sounds were almost imperceptible. But they caught the notice of a husband, in one of the closest houses to the beginning of the street. Cautiously, he edged his way over to the window, lifting a segment of the blinds to peek through.

At first, he couldn't tell what it was. It almost looked like a human figure covered in tar…but as the thing came closer, he could tell that was not the case. As it entered the street, the ooze dripped off of it and onto the street, and the yard next to it. The man watched in an almost morbid fascination as the grass withered and died almost immediately. The acidic substance hissed as it came in contact with the asphalt of the street.

His eyes widened as a woman came running towards the monster. He could see the tears running down her face, and he could see the wisps of blonde hair trying to free themselves from her ponytail. He almost wanted to cry out, to give a warning, or to ask what the hell she thought she was doing…but no sound came from his throat. His vocal chords temporarily refused to work. He could hear snatches of the shouted accusations that the woman threw at the thing; just barely, but he could.

"…killed her! How could…my daughter…dead!…are…MONSTER!"

In her rage, pain, and sorrow induced madness, the woman threw herself to the toxic thing. She threw herself to her death. She screamed as the acidic substance came in contact with her skin. The thing did not move. The woman's legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground, whimpering and yet still glaring at the monster with every ounce of hate she could summon. Trails of black substance still connected her to the thing, and with every second that passed, it ate away father and farther into her.

The thing just stared at her with obsidian eyes, almost indistinguishable from the ooze that coated it. Then, in one swift movement, it collapsed upon itself. It lost its semi-human form, turning into a bubbling column of roiling black. Without warning, it fell upon the woman, drawing one last scream from her before she was consumed by the acid.

When the thing drew back and reformed, there was nothing left of the woman.

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His eyes stung and watered as he stared sightlessly at the closet ceiling. He lay limp on the ground, a shining trail of salty water coming from his abused left eye. At first, he had been panicked, just barely restraining himself from screaming. Then came denial. At least that didn't last long. Now, there was just a numb kind of acceptance.

"Once you lose something, you gain something else."

He tensed at the unexpected words. They sent a shiver through him, they almost sounded familiar. But who could have spoken? It seemed to have come from nowhere, echoing from within the small space.

He sat up stiffly, trying to search through blind eyes as his ears strained to pick up another sound. There was only the silence and the darkness. The only sounds were that of his own breath and that of the girl's.

'_Am I going insane?'_

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"Music to my ears." The boss remarked, chuckling, "Ah, but there is more thing for me to do. Perhaps this disastrous situation can be remedied."

He pressed the green button on his remote, still not taking his eyes off of his precious experiment, and for now, his entertainment.

"I will not let this fall to pieces. That is not an option."

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His lungs constricted. He couldn't breathe. The strength left his arms and he crashed gracelessly to the floor once again. His head was spinning, and couldn't tell which way was up.

And yet somehow, there was no pain.

That was when he felt the hand latch onto his wrist. With trembling fingers, he managed to follow the arm up to her face with his other hand. The fringes of her eyelashes fluttered against his fingers.

"I…won't let you… be…tortured like…this." She gasped out.

She coughed, hacking up a small amount of blood. Flecks of it landed on his arm. He wanted to say something to her. What, he didn't know.

But even if he could find the words, he wouldn't have been able to speak them.

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_What happens when you care so much about someone, that you don't even know what to call it? How can one fall in love or beyond when no more than a single sentence had been spoken? What could evoke so much emotion, without even knowing the other person's name? Is that love at first sight? Or something else? _

_Is such a thing as this destined to last? Or will it fall to pieces as suddenly as it had began?_

_But then again, who is to say it hadn't begun long before? _

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